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Welcome to the original birthplace of Castor

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Height: 17h

Castor's Stats
Skill level: 65
Power: 7 pts
Strength: 7 pts
Intelligence: 14 pts
Wisdom: 15 pts
Courage: 14 pts
Luck: 6 pts
Speed: 14 pts
Agility: 12 pts
Adaptability: 6 pts
Stamina: 11 pts

Personality: Castor has a brilliant mind and an unfortunate mix of physical traits; from birth he took this as a sign that he was designed and destined to become a tactician. Though he often fails to comprehend social situations, this doesn’t seem to have affected his work life in the least and though he makes a concentrated effort to overcome the problem, he doesn’t torment himself over it when he fails. In general he displays the calm temperament said to go along with the Aeri blood he carries, but disruption of his routines or plans has a tendency to spark his anger and get whoever has managed to infuriate him a thorough tongue lashing.

Location: The Hellene territories

Castor's Tree is located in the Northwestern Quadrant

The Tree

My tree is tall, as you might expect, and a blue white colour, appropriately enough. It does not have my frailness, the branches are straight and strong, the leaves a healthy mid blue and not rot of fungus grows on or near it. The bark might fool you, I suppose, it peels off once a year you see. Usually the trunk is a pale blue colour, but in summer the bark falls off and the new bark underneath is paler, so the thing looks a bit patchy in the hotter months.

In winter, to contrast the fall of bark in the summer, my tree loses its leaves and stands all season long looking a suitable shade of frost. When spring comes, so too do small blossoms. Some of these are white, some of them vibrant blue and some a rich dark blue. I’ve never bothered to make an exact count, but just by looking I’d guess that there are around equal numbers of each colour at any one time. Before long, the petals fall and new blue leaves come through once more. As these mature, the first of the bark begins to peel, and the whole process begins again.


Brief Information

Name: Castor
Personality: Composed
Orientation: 6
Breed: Aeri/(Ichsa/Reya) x Aeri/(Ichsa/Reya) (what are the chances, right?)
Height: 17h
Build: Light, skinny, long-legged
Coat colour: Tribal water
Eye colour: Vivid blue
Mane: Medium
Tail: Reya
Wings: Ichsa
Horn: None (sadly)

Herd: Hendrakai Helene
Position: Master Tactician
Sire: Diokles
Dam: (deceased)
Siblings: Ambrosia; sister (outcast)
Mate: None
Sons: None
Daughters: None

Strengths: Reasoning, planning, thinking on-the-spot, courage, speed, agility, stamina (running)
Weaknesses: Social skills, power, coping with life outside the herdlands, luck, flying, fighting

Songs:

The following is an account of the night before I came Master Tactician, more history will be added at ome point.

It was night, a dark chill night with frost on the grass and ten thousand brilliant stars winking overhead. The light they gave off was easily enough to see by, but the cold had driven most creatures to curl up close to a friend or a lover and sleep until the sun’s warm kiss returned to the world. Indeed, the only Nequus stirring were those on urgent business that could not be put off until the warming golden light of dawn.

Most of these Nequus currently lurked in the shadows of nearby trees, but one of them was grazing.

Slow, measured steps carried the long-legged stallion along as he cropped at the grass. Occasionally, a muscular tail or two would shiver in protest at the temperature, or a slight gust of wind would tug at the tall creature’s dark mane and tendril wings. He paid these things little mind, however; grazing was the matter before him and it was occupying his full attention.

Almost his full attention.

Though his eyes, muscles and most of his mind were focused on the frozen grass he nibbled at, his ears and a corner of his mind were very much alert. It did not pay for a prospective Master Tactician to let his guard down the night before the final selection, especially when word has recently reached him that somebody is less than keen on the idea of him being alive come dawn. Still, the mixed-blood stallion was not worried. He knew his opponent well, and she was not the kind to send a silent killer in the night. No, he rolled his eyes, this particular female liked to make a statement. When she made her move, he would most certainly know about it. All he had to do was wait for her to act, and then react in whatever way necessary.

He was not kept waiting very long. Hardly a few minutes after his eye-rolling, some of the other Nequus out on important business began to move forward at the signal of a white leathery wing.

At the sound of hooves, the tall crossbreed finished up the patch of spice-herb he had been working on, swallowed and raised his head. “Ambrosia,” he said softly without bothering to look around. After taking a moment to enjoy the stunned silence of his adversary, the skinny stallion turned to give the snowy-coated female and the two stallions who flanked her a thoroughly underwhelmed stare. “You are interrupting my grazing time,” he informed her with an annoyed flick of wings and tails.

The mare, recovering quickly from her shock, glared over at the other tactician and swished her tail in a manner similar to the twitching of the stallions muscled appendages. “Castor,” she responded with a hiss of distaste and a curl of her lip.

At this point she paused again, apparently lost for words. The pale stallion, Castor, hoped silently that this was because he had failed to give her the prompt she needed to start on whatever pretty-worded tirade she had prepared for this moment. At her continued silence however, the tall stallion sighed and shook his head. At this rate he, she and the Bae and Jala behind her were going to freeze before they got anything done and he disliked such inefficiency; he would have to help her out a little.

“What do you want, Ambrosia?” the skinny crossbreed began, raising an eyebrow at the curve-horned mare. “I would have thought you might be resting before the final selection takes place.” There, that had to give her something to work with; she was no slouch or she wouldn’t have come as far as she had. The trouble with Ambrosia, Castor considered as he watched her gather herself for her speech, was that she over-planned and then failed to adapt when the situation changed.

“I am here, Castor,” the white mare snapped, “to eliminate you. You, you with those flimsy wings, that frail frame and unhorned, despite your parents, are not fit to live among we warriors, let alone take on Phaedra's mantle." Shaking her head and showing her teeth for a moment, the tall mare took a pace towards the unblinking Castor. “You,” she hissed as she set back her ears and widened her dark eyes, “should never have been hatched.”

“Oh.” Castor deflated somewhat and shook his head. “Is that the case? How disappointingly predictable of you.” Another problem with Ambrosia. Very clever, very good at what she did in general, Gods knew she’d memorized all the classic maneuvers and knew when to use them but she just lacked... Spark, imagination, inspiration. Thus far, her brilliant mind had covered for that; the weakness had not been seen in her by any save him, but that was to be expected he supposed.

The part Reya mare blinked and turned briefly to her followers for support, thrown by the blue stallion’s reaction once more. He had probably been expected to object strongly to her words or something, Castor considered with an internal sigh; Ambrosia never had known him all that well. Still, it was to his advantage and watching her flounder was vaguely entertaining, so no matter. He’d heard enough of her generic snipping over his unfortunate traits in any case. Time, perhaps, to move the discussion his way a little.

“So tell me,” the blue stallion took a step towards the more powerfully constructed cross without bothering to glance at the pair who stood behind her, “why is it that you think you are so very worthy of this ‘mantle’ then, and why do you want it so very much?” He had to admit to curiosity on that score; for all her bravado the Aeri-winged mare had to know that he was at least as good a candidate as she if not better... No, in fact she probably did know that he was better or she wouldn’t be here tonight, would she? Another disappointment. Trying to take out a mind better made for the role out of simple jealousy or power-lust. She always had been the jealous sort.

The white-coated mare tossed her curling mane and narrowed her eyes. “Because I am a better Hellenes than you are for one,” she said coolly, “a warrior among warriors, as opposed to a weakling scholar obsessed with his little routines. This herd needs not only a fine mind, but a fine figurehead to succeed Phaedra and you, Castor, do not fit the criteria and therefore I must remove you lest those making the final choice make a regrettable error in judgment.”

...Humm, well perhaps he hadn’t given her quite enough credit. Power-lust and jealousy were only part of her reasoning for trotting up to him with a mind to beat his bones to pieces, or have them beaten to pieces anyway. Appearing as though she had been in a struggle when he turned up dead would not look good to those making the final selection and that would be the last thing she wanted.

“I see your point.” And he did see. He had his own imperfections, of course he did, but he did not see how they mattered, how they kept him from being the figurehead that Ambrosia said the herd required. “Personally however,” he went on with another raised brow, “I believe that my little... idiosyncrasies will be far, far less damaging to the herd than your hot head. While it may make you a good Hellenes to be full of rage, muscle and blood-lust I fail to see how those traits will aid you in rational decision making. Oh, and you didn’t tell me why you wanted the position by the by; lack of attention to detail doesn’t sound like a good thing in a Master Tactician to me either.”

Ambrosia snarled and stamped a hoof. “Infuriating drekhallah, close your foolish mouth before I knock the teeth out of it!”

Castor raised the eyebrow again. “Temper temper,” he said dryly, “no need to go proving my point too much, I might get cocky.” Not only that, but he didn’t want her to go over the edge and order the Jala and the Bae behind her to tear him apart before the time was right. As with battle planning, timing was all important here. If she didn’t start shooting her stupid proud mouth off soon, he wouldn’t get quite what he needed out of this little encounter. Her display of rash anger and her stated intention to do away with him was good, but not perfect. If he could get more out of her, he wanted to.

The leather-winged mare hissed, stamped again but managed to compose herself. “Very well,” the dark-eyed cross snapped, “I suppose I shall treat this as a last request and humor you then. I want to take over from Phaedra for many reasons. Power, influence, the recognition that my shining mind and strong body deserve. I am not content to live a life of ambiguity under the orders of one inferior to myself, Castor, and your pathetic body is all that stands between me and achieving the position I deserve. Now, out of curiosity, why did you want to rise so high in the herd? Are your reasons all wonderful and selfless, humm?”

The white-marked crossbreed paused for a moment before making eye contact with the Reya-horned mare once more. “I shall come to that after I have recapped your reasons,” he informed her. “In short, you want power, and to show off your power. You want me gone because you know that I am better than you for this role you desire, and because for my frail body, my useless wings and my lack of horn you see me as less than yourself. In short, because of my breeding, you think yourself higher than me and cannot stand the thought of being my subordinate.” Perfect. He could hardly have asked for better. “In any case, my reasons. Simply put, I believe that I am the best for the position. My mind is excellently suited to command, to ingenuity and to the cold calm anger needed plan the downfall of all who oppose us. This added to the fact that my... physique shall we say does not lend itself to other positions within the herd leads me to the conclusion that I am a worthy successor to Phaedra, and that indeed I have been designed to succeed her. Made to carry on her work as I believe I am, I doubt I could be happy in my life if I did not follow this purpose and claim this title. So, as you see, my reasons are not very much, if any, more selfless than yours.”

Ambrosia snorted and bared her teeth again; it seemed that she was beginning to lose the last shred of her patience. “Very well then, Castor the designed, you have heard my reasons and given yours. Are you quite finished stalling now? I would like to have this all over with by dawn, I need to be quite some way from here by the time you are missed you know.”

“Mmm, with a carefully crafted alibi on your lips too I have no doubt,” the pale stallion commented with a shake of his head and a glance at the still-silent Bae and Jala whom the white mare intended to set on him in the not too distant future. Well, seen as he had all he wanted from her now he might as well give her that last shove. “One more thing I have to ask you before you have your little friends kill me, Ammie; what do you think of the other candidates?” There, if calling her Ammie didn’t push her over the edge nothing would.

Indeed, just as predicted, the white mare screamed her rage and rose up on her hind legs to strike at the air with her powerful forehooves. “Arg! You insufferable little...! Bah! Enough of this nonsense! Alcaues, Evaristus; charge!”

Instead of the pounding of hooves however, a sudden silence reigned.

The pair of stallions had remained perfectly still.

After a few moments the part Reya mare cottoned onto this fact, snarled and wheeled about to face them, her eyes blazing. “Well, what are you waiting for? Get him!”

The stallions regarded her coldly. Neither so much as twitched an ear.

“Dear dear, Ambrosia,” Castor sighed into the hush with a slow shake of his head, “you really don’t know who your friends are, do you? So. You prove yourself to be predictable, ignorant of the loyalties of others and most cowardly and dishonorable in this matter. In short, I find you not at all suitable to be in this herd at all, let alone to take on a position of responsibility and I believe that there are many here tonight who would agree with me.”

As the pale crossbreed finished speaking, the rest of the Nequus out that night on important business slipped from the shade of trees and bushes. By the set of their ears and the hardness in their eyes, they had heard everything and liked none of it. As one Nequus, Alcaues, Evaristus and the other silently gathered Hellenes turned to the stunned Ambrosia and charged.

Castor watched for long enough to see her attempt at bolting foiled by a swift pair of Ichsa stallions before turning away and setting off at an unhurried walk. Before he had gone more than a couple of paces, the sound of hooves striking flesh and a cry of pain reached his ears. He shook his head and walked on; she’d set herself up for this, the stupid mare, she should have just contented herself with being a tactician under him, but second to him had never been good enough for the snowy female. A sharper cry of pain made the dark-maned stallion wince but he continued to move away at the same measured pace rather than turning to see the tall mare dragged away to face the Council. He already knew what the result of her actions would be; his presence would add nothing to the proceedings.

“Waru!”

At that cry the Reya-tailed stallion did come to a halt, but he did not look around. Instead, he took a deep steadying breath and closed his eyes for a moment. She had sealed her own fate, and he had never felt anything but contempt for his sister with her wide Aeri wings, her sharp curving horn, her healthy body and her insufferable arrogance. His only regret was that her exile would make their father sad. Castor shut out a piercing cry of despair and set off once more at a slightly brisker walk.

She had sealed her own fate.

A List of people I know and what I think of them; arranged more or less in order of how much I like them from highest to lowest.

Meleager - Intelligent and powerful he is a good leader to our herd. Personally he is kind, courteous and easy to talk to. I think I may like him a little too well. (Like very much/am crushing on/am being courted by)

Ignatius - My bodyguard, and a very good one at that. He’s good company as well; intelligent and quite witty when he chooses to be, plus he doesn’t mind explaining the things that go over my head which is always nice. All in all, a good find. (Like)

First Ambassador Iris - Brilliant if reserved she is very good at her job and was most helpful to me when I first took up my post. An excellent mare indeed. (Like)

Jocasta - A new tactician; she has a bright mind, and I think she will do well. (Like)

Great minds, small talk - Today I was fortunate enough to encounter First Ambassador Iris. I asked her many questions about my new post, and she answered all graciously

Testing the waters - Another important encounter today; my first proper meeting with the herdleader. He was as good to me as Iris, better even; he agreed to come and meet my father that very afternoon.

Developments - Hum, Meleager has interest in a recently recruited mare it seems. From what I gather she’s suitable enough on the surface, though I’m, not sure about him being so close to one so new to the herd. He knows of my concerns, however, and I trust that he can care for himself; he is the herdleader after all.

Protection - I was chased by Ambrosia today and subsequently met up with Meleager. We both think I should get a bodyguard and even have a candidate in mind. Also, I seem to have a crush on Meleager.

Opportunities - Well, good, I think I have myself a bodyguard now and I think I might get on with him too which is nice.

Love of Duty - I had a brief conversation with a new tactician today; she had some questions about her duties to ask me. I do like it when people are willing to show their ignorance rather than trying to muddle through on guesswork.

Change - Meleager and I are now courting, and he has provided me with a piece of land right next to his. I’m not quite sure how things are going to go from here, but I’m looking forward to finding out.

Love and logic - Meleager wishes to have foals, this is fine. He wishes to make them heirs, which is not. I hope I can talk him out of it.

Something to think about - I went to see Jocasta, the mare Meleager wishes to be the mother of his foals. She seems agreeable to the idea, and will be speaking to Meleager about it soon.

Discussions - I persuaded Meleager not to make his children into heirs. Despite this success, I wish the conversation had never happened.

Today is a very special day. My sister has been evicted from the herdlands, and I have been selected to succeed Phaedra. I know riruy misses Ambrosia, but frankly we’re all better off without her. She was no Hellene, wasn’t even a decent person. Back stabbing is bad enough in any situation, but against your own family? Bah, well she always was jealous of me and my talent. She might have tried to pretend she looked down on me for my physical imperfections, for my social awkwardness, but even I could see though that, and if I could how obvious must it have been to everyone else?

Still, she’s gone now and I needn’t spare her another thought. What matters is that I have become what I was born to be, and that I must start adapting to the changes in my life and learning the ins and outs of my duties. I hope it doesn’t take me too long to adapt; though there don’t seem to be any threats to the herd at the moment I want to be prepared for the situation to change. Just because there has been no real conflict in my lifetime doesn’t mean that battle isn’t right around the corner.

So, with this in mind there is no time to waste; I must throw myself into my work with all my energy, and somehow find extra energy for making the necessary changes to my routine. It will be difficult, but I know I can do it; I was born to do so after all.

It is always strange to me to watch the soldiers spar. So differently must we tacticians and they warriors keep ourselves fit for our roles. Strange though it is, it’s impressive too and really very enjoyable; I never lack for an attractive stallion to watch when I observe them. Tough, sculpted muscles, manes streaming in the wind, voices shouting challenges, flanks heaving with exertion...

Yes, ogling the soldiers is a most pleasant diversion, but it is still a diversion. My reason for going to watch them that day wasn’t to quietly fantasize, it was to find the Herdleader, whom I had been assured would be there. Indeed he was, and I was fortunate enough to be on the hilltop he came to after finishing a sparring match.

I was surprised by him, I must say. He was a gracious as Iris, and the fact that he’s a very good looking Reya didn’t hurt the encounter a bit. We talked about peace, war, about the importance of keeping sharp no matter how calm things might look on the surface. He wishes to expand our territory, but I think I managed to discourage him from that. I hope he is willing to take me seriously on this; I may be young and new to my post but I know good sense, and that seems to be a thing our fearless leader lacks. Still, that is why the council exists I imagine, to both assist Meleager and balance his passion with logic when needed.

Our conversation began to wind to a close eventually, and a thought occurred to me. I asked him to come and meet m father; he is still miserable about Ambrosia, and I thought a visit for Meleager might cheer him up. I expected the answer to be either ‘no’ or ‘some other time’ but instead he asked my my sire’s name so that he might address him by it. I gave it to him, of course, and we set off together.

Riruy was as pleased and flattered as I expected, and he looked happier even after Meleager was gone on about his business. I had to go about mine too, but before I left my father told me how proud he is of me. I thought he probably was, but it was still good to hear it.

So, another member of the council I get along with, and the Herdleader no less. I can only hope that I find the Commandante as agreeable when she finally returns; it would be a shame not to make the whole set.

Of all the physical strengths denied to me, speed, stamina and agility on the ground were not among the. They might not let me be a warrior, but they certainly do well at keeping my hide intact. Ambrosia nearly killed me today, out by the border. I was lucky enough to spot her reflection in the river I was drinking from; that bought me a split second to react and it was enough. I dodged her blow, scaled the bank in a single leap and took off like the wind. For a little while I heard her hooves behind me, heard her curse, but I am far faster than she and those sounds were soon lost to me.

I ran for what felt like forever, not wishing to risk my sister’s incredible stamina allowing her to catch up with me. Makes me glad I keep myself in good trim, very glad indeed. Still, I was worn out by the time a friendly voice hailed me; Meleager to the rescue no less. Between gasps I told him what had happened, and after being worried and pissed off he led me to shade where I was only to happy to flop over.

We decided then that I needed a bodyguard; I can hardly avoid the border forever after all, and Meleager even had a recommendation for me. One Ignatius, a mutant stallion recently come to the herd who match him in a duel. Anyone who can match Meleager is just fine so far as protection goes so far as I’m concerned. Apparently the warrior in question is having trouble getting used to the idea of rank and file, so this idea is potentially beneficial to both of us.

Still, with that sorted out I needed something else to say so I asked about Meleager’s progress on the mate front. He ran off to get sweet-water fruits, told me there wasn’t any really. I was pleased about that and at teh time i thought it was just because i didn’t want to lose his attention to some mare. In a way I was right. He went on to ask my opinions on whether or not his courting Iris might be an issue. Politically I felt not, felt it might even be easier than taking a mare of common standing but I found myself hating the idea of him and her. He told me he is losing interest somewhat, and that pleased me too. I suggested other possibilities and he pushed them aside too, again I was most pleased and then I finally figured it out.

I like him, not just as a friend but as a potential mate. He is handsome, intelligent and we get along very well indeed. As well as all that there is this... this something with him, this specialness. I don’t know how else to put it. Merely looking at him makes my day better, and his praise always makes my heart lift. I don’t know him well enough yet for this to be love but attraction and infatuation are quite possible. Probable. Almost certain. I haven’t felt this way before really; I’ve found many aesthetically pleasing and such but there hasn’t been then... the specialness.

This could complicate matter quite a bit if it doesn’t go away.

Bugger.

How very inconvenient.